Long after nones close by compline

(Six or so if you’re not inclined)

While aimless well beyond the press

Of merchants bent on activeness

There stood I in a darkened lane

Crooked cobbled aged arcane

Whose weathered dwellings were forlorn  

Upper stories bent and worn

Framed in blackened trunk and bough

Wattled parged and walled in stone

Exuding a hint of medieval though

Still habited dim lighted windows shown

One small abode drew me on

It’s beamed trunks and wattle worn

It’s eves so low I stood above

Signed CHEMIST the door I shove

Stooping I enter in enthralled

To oaken stoop and flag stoned floor 

Darkened shelves ran the sooted walls

With nostrums potients and wherewithal 

A kiosk reigned at the rear 

Within a small man tonsured sat

He nodded with an easy smile

Opined that custom was rather slack 

We spoke of many varied things

He with a lilting easy drawl

He said his goods were all self made

I asked his name he said Cadfael